The glass of the window felt cool as her fingertips lightly pressed against it. She was leaning agaist it, each breath momentarily causing the pane to fog. Deep blue eyes searched the darkness beyond the window.
For perhaps the first time in her life, Lucy's thoughts were silent. Gone was the wirlwind of childhood, replaced by the cold grip of fear. Silence had settled into her heart slowly eating away at her confidence, her hope...
He would not come home.
She was old enough to realize this, yet at eleven, Lucy was still young enough to long for the gentle consolances that came from adults. The easy safety they could offer by taking responsibilty and making up for the experiences she lacked.
It started to snow, just a few flakes, falling slowly like tiny paracutes for invisble men.
"Snowflakes are like people Lu," her brother had once said as he affectionatly tosseled her hair, "they all look the same from afar, but when you look close you can see that each one is different. They are never exactly the same."
Her older brother had been the smart one; he would have known what to do. He was the good one; she was the bad one. Nothing she did was ever right.
But then, she was still here wasn't she? She was still here waiting by the window even as her brother was out there somewhere fighting in a war he didn't believe in, a war that her country could never win, a war that they, mother, all knew would kill him.